A Woman of Action
by PlanetsBendBetweenUs
Summary: She may not have been a woman of words but she didn't need to be – not with him. But she was definitely a woman of action... First fanfic, unbetaed. Originally posted to my Tumblr.


Also available on my tumblr .com

Captain Swan Fanfiction

Rating: M

Words: 4000+

_Summary: She may not have been a woman of words but she didn't need to be – not with him. But she was definitely a woman of action._…..

Mostly shameless cs smut/blowjob smut but with the premier coming up my feels got the best of me in the first bit.

**First CS fanfic, first fanfic EVER, first smut piece, first everything.**

Emma wondered sometimes how in the hell she had gotten so lucky. If you had asked her two years ago, when she'd first arrived in Storybrook, or even just a few months ago how she thought her life would turn out, this was certainly not how she would have pictured it. She wouldn't have expected to finally be reunited with her parents whom she'd believed for so long had abandoned her, or her son whom she'd regretfully abandoned in turn. She wouldn't have expected to be living in a little rainy town in Main inhabited solely by fairytale characters (most of whom were somehow related to her), in her own home that she had built for herself and her little makeshift family – a home she had finally managed to put roots down in after nearly thirty years of running from the very idea of settling down. More than anything though, Emma never would have believed that she could be so utterly and completely happy. For the first time in her life, Emma Swan was one hundred percent content with her life. It was peaceful, with the acception of the occasional catastrophe – this was still Storybrook after all – she had a job she enjoyed, she was surrounded by people who loved her and that she loved just as fiercely in return, and even she and Regina had somehow managed to coexist and share the responsibility of raising their son together.

Emma smiled to herself over her cup of cocoa. Leaning on the counter in her and Henry's flat, her gaze fixated on the very answer to her question. Hook – _Killian_, sat on the couch in the living room, his attention focused on the copy of Henry's book report that he held in his hand. She couldn't see his face, only the back of his head and neck and the slight profile of his jaw over the back of the sofa, but she knew his brow was probably screwed in concentration. He took his job as editor and homework-helper very seriously and Emma smiled again. Him. That's how she had gotten so lucky. Captain-freaking-Hook had come into her life and blown all of her walls down with a tenacity and a degree of love and commitment that Emma had only ever seen in the way her parents held on to eachother. Despite her resistance, Killian had fought his way into her life and finally her heart, forcing her to accept what she had always known she needed but refused to admit she wanted – love. But it wasn't just his love he had opened her up to. No he had been the missing piece in her life that had allowed her to accept the love of everyone who she now held so dear. He had brought her back to them, back to herself that day that now seemed so long ago in the enchanted forest when he had helped her believe in her herself and powers. He had brought her home.

She could never thank him enough for that. No matter how long they were together, Emma never felt that there were words to express the gratitude she felt for his devotion to her – to his mere presence by her side. God knows she'd tried her damndest to push him out of her life but he had pushed back just as hard, refusing to leave her, until finally that last bit of stone around her heart had been chipped away. But she wasn't good with words. She had told him that she loved him. Surprisingly she had been the one to say it first. On some level, Emma was sure that he had wanted to say them, long before she was ready to hear them, but had held back, knowing what those words meant to her and that she had to come around to them on her own terms, not because she felt the need to say them back to him.

She could still remember the look of pure joy that had fallen accross his face when she'd told him. It had been out of the blue. They had been settled in front of the TV watching Netflix, Henry had just gone to the door to get the pizza and Killian was trying to figure out the remote – and failing miserably. The smile he had given her when she finally said it had caused her heart to stutter in her chest before he leaned over and kissed her firmly on the lips. '_It's about bloody time'_ he'd told her as he pulled away and Emma met his smile with one of her own, her eyes watery as he held her gaze until Henry came back into the room with a pre-adolescent groan of '_Ew, gross. Get a room,_' planting himself in the small space between them.

And now there Killian sat, on that very same couch they had sat on that day, months ago now. No she wasn't good with words (hence why she hadn't been asked to correct her son's homework) but _he _was. Emma would deny to her bitter end the effect his words had on her. The way he turned phrases so eloquently and effortlessly, speaking in a way that was still half from another era made her heart swoon. And his accent – _God_, his accent – it made her knees weak and her stomach tighten at the most innoportune moments. The bastard knew it too. Always enunciating certain words he knew made his accent more prominent when they were in public and unable to hide the smug look on his face when she squirmed uncomfortably. Always speaking low in her ear when they were seperated from a group or alone. Sometimes the things he said were downright filthy but sometimes something as mundane as '_Remind me to pick up more coffee filters, love,_' muttered with his breath ghosting along her neck made her have to pause and get her breathing right. When they made love, he brought it out with full force, telling her how beautiful she was, how amazing, how she felt wrapped around him, what he wanted to do to her as she rocked herself above him. Often she'd have to kiss him just to shut him up, worried that it would be over too quickly if he kept talking like that. The man had a talented mouth.

Emma shuttered slightly, thinking of just _how_ talented that mouth really was. She still doesn't know why she was surprised the first time she'd let him into her bed (though if she's being honest she practically dragged him there) to find out that Killian Jones was definitely a giver. She should have known considering how passionately he loved, how willing he was to sacrifice, to give everything of himself for the few people in his life he judged deserving enough to be loved the way that only Killian could love. Generous was an understatement, Emma thought. Killian could accomplish with one hand what few men could with both. Perhaps on some level that first night she had still expected him to embrace his pirate side and take what was so willingly given. She had been fully prepared to be pillaged and plundered and while the thought still appealed to her, she had not expected to be cherished by his love, consumed by his fire, brought to the brink of destruction over and over again before he finally allowed her to crumble around him. And afterwards, as they lay together, he told her stories about his life before her, telling her how all of it had been meant to be to lead him to her. Showering her with praise and and words of love and lust and longing that had led to round two.

Emma bit her lip as she studied him, the strong curve of his neck where it met his shoulders that she knew to be well-muscled despite the shirt hiding them from her view. His inky, black hair, so soft when she let it slip through her fingers. God, she wanted to muss it up. It was properly coiffed back today, he had gone for a job interview down at the docks (apparently Storybrook needed a new coast-guard). It also explained why his shirt was buttoned so infuriatingly high up. All but the top button were closed, hiding the tantalizing strip of skin and chest hair that he usually bore from her hungry gaze. She watched his jaw flex, the muscles of his neck spasming and accentuating the sharp angle of his jaw as he read what must have been a particularly upsetting bit of twelve-year-old grammar and Emma was done for. No, she may not have been a woman of words but she didn't need to be – not with him. But she was _definitely_ a woman of action.

Strolling over to where he sat unawares of her intentions, she tried to remain as quiet as possible. Killian startled a bit as he felt her lean over the back of the sofa, her hand imideatly finding one pectoral muscle and gliding across to the other over his shirt. _Too much damn material_. Killian smiled, turning his head to try meet her gaze, his hand too occupied to return her caress. Before he could speak, she had brought her other hand around so that they were both drapped over his shoulders, her mouth by his ear and out of his reach, her breath hot against the skin just below it. She pressed her breasts up against his back. She felt him stiffen as her hands travelled up to the first button of his shirt, popping it open and dragging her nails lightly along the newly exposed skin. She reached the next button and repeated her actions.

'Emma,' he breathed, his voice already shaky and she smirked smugly to herself. She didn't answer, instead catching his earlobe between her teeth and grazing her them along it, delighted by the small gasp it elicited from her pirate. Finally, Emma reached the last button and she slid her hand into the opening she had created. She let her hands explore him, revelling in the choked sounds and changes in his breathing as traced the map of scars that marked his skin. She sunk her hands further under his shirt, causing it to hang halfway off his shoulders, she slid her fingers towards the skin of his ribs where she knew he was most sensitive, dragging her nails maybe _just a little_ too hard along them and down towards his navel. Killian's head fell back and Emma watched the thin, red lines apear accross his tanned skin a small '_ah_' escaped his lips, sounding torn somewhere between pain and pleasure but if he wanted her to stop he gave no indication.

'Damn it, woman,' he panted out, his chest rising and falling more quickly as she continued her exploration. She responded by biting the hollow of his throat where his neck met his shoulder but she was done with just feeling him, she wanted to _see _him.

Standing straight, she walked around the sofa so that she stood in front of him. _God he was gorgeous,_ she thought taking in his disheveled and downright sinful appearance. Lounging back on the cusions, his shirt, haning from his shoulders, did nothing to hide his modesty. His cheeks flushed and his masculine, hair-covered chest marked up by her own doing, he sat with his legs sprawled open, his hardness becoming obvious in its dark-wash, demim prison. Looking at her with a darkness and a longing in his eyes, he reaked of sex and debauchery and all things pleasurable and Emma had to stop herself from giving in and letting him ravish her the way she knew he loved to do. No, this was all about him.

She leaned forward, bracing her hand on the couch behind his head so that her breasts were almost level with his face. She smirked as his gaze darkened even further, the blue almost completely swallowed by desire. Slowly, she ran her nails along the length of his torso, passing over every hard-earned ridge and muscle formed by years at sea. He shuttered beneath her as her hand came to a stop just above the leather of his belt. Henry's report long forgotten, Killian reached a hand out to touch her but Emma swatted it away, smirking when she met his confused look. He seemed to be struggling between being hurt and even more turned on. Painfully slowly, she leaned down, bypassing his mouth to plant her lips on the center of his chest, kissing his sternum thoroughly with a swipe of her tongue before proceeding to place hot, wet, open mouth kisses down along his abs and hips, following the trail her hand had blazed and coming to settle on her knees before him.

Reaching for his buckle, Emma was glad she was already kneeling. The look he was giving her was turning her insides upside down and her legs to jelly. _No one_ had ever looked at her like that before. Like she was an oasis placed in front of a man dying of thirst, or land to a sailor out too long at sea. The need and hunger in his eyes had her struggling to steady her breath and pressing her thighs together. It was _so unfair_ that he could affect her so strongly mearly by reacting to her. Determined to regain control of the situation, Emma made quick work of his belt before dropping her hands to the fly of his jeans. She traced the length of him through the denim and bit back a proud giggle when she heard him mutter a curse under his breath. She did it again, adding more pressure.

'Fuck, Swan, please,' he begged, his voice desperate. She had to remember to tease him about that later. She ran her palms along the inside of his jean-clad thighs, raising her eyebrow at him as he sucked in a breath and bit his lip in anticipation of what was to come. He was practically shaking under her and she had barely touched him, feminine pride swelled inside her for reducing the strong, fearless pirate captain to putty in her hands. Finally, taking pity on him, she opened the button of his jeans and slid down the zipper. As expected, she was met with hot, rigid flesh (wearing boxers had been one of the few modern customs that Killian had refused to accept). A soft '_yes_' fell from his lips as she wrapped her hand around him, finally freeing his cock from the tight confines of this world's clothing. She ran her hand up and down him a few times experimentally, watching as he fought back the sounds of pleasure and want trying to force their way out of him. Running her thumb along his head, she released him only long enough to pull his jeans further down his legs, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to her gaze and her will.

Meeting his eyes again, she could see the conflicting emotions crossing his face. She knew what he wanted, it was obvious, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her for it, would never expect or demand it of her. _I'm always a gentleman_ she'd heard him say so long ago. Looking back down at his cock, standing thick and heavy in anticipation of her, she licked her lips. The words that fell from his mouth afterwards were far from those of a gentleman. Finally, she lowered her lips over him, taking as much of his impressive lenth as she could into her mouth, wrapping her hand around the bit she couldn't reach. She heard the leather of the couch creak as his head fell back against it in pure bliss. She bobbed her head along his shaft, hollowing her cheeks as she set a punishing rhythm right from the start, hard and fast. She massaged the sensitive muscles on the inside of his thighs as she sucked on the length of him, egged on by the beligerant words that were coming from him. There was no finesse to it, it was sloppy and dirty and rough. And it was hot. Emma found herself again pressing her thighs together, looking for some sort of friction, and, if the way Killian kept accidentally thrusting his hips into her mouth before fighting for restraint and pulling himself back was any indication, this kind of fucking – raw, unadultered, rough and so different from their usual form of passion – was as much of a turn on for him as it was for her.

'Emma, love,' he managed to gasp out between heavy pants and curses. She knew he was getting close. His hand and hook came up to her arms, trying to pull her up off of him but she held fast, not stopping her unforgiving pace. She knew what he was doing, trying to forego his own pleasure, his own release so that he could take care of her at the same time – if not first. But that was not the plan. Tonight, Killian Jones was _hers_ to ravish. Hers to bring to the brink of madness. 'Sweetheart, please,' he begged again, his voice like gravel and velvet as he tried to pull her up to him again. 'I – you need to – let me – _gods above!_' His insistance was cut off as she ran her tongue along the length of him, swirling it around his tip before taking his head in her mouth again and sucking hard.

Taking his hand and hook from her arms, she pinned them down forcefully on either side of him, holding them down and fixing him with a stern look before returning to the task at hand. She didn't miss the way he looked at her though as she forced him to submit to her. That look should have been illegal. It was more desperate and craving than anything she had seen from him before. Perhaps Killian Jones, gentleman and giving lover didn't mind having the reins taken from him every now and then, being dominated by a woman – by her – seemed to have increased his lust tenfold. That would definitely be worth investigating in the future Emma thought. Bowing her head again, she took him back into her mouth, renewing her pace and redoubling her efforts, she sucked the tip of him the way she knew he liked on each pass up and ran it along the vein on the underside of his cock each time he slid back between her lips. When she was sure that he would keep his hooked arm down, she released his wrist and brought it down between his legs, cradling his balls and rolling them in her palm before tracing a finger along the seam.

'Yes,' he nearly shouted at the added stimulation. His hips were now thrusting wildly up into her mouth. 'Gods, Swan, yes. Just like that. Bloody hell, woman, yes – fuck – don't stop.' She knew he would probably deny most of the words tumbling from him later, but right now, Emma swelled with the knowledge that he had given up fighting her on this – she had managed to make him leave behind the eternal gentleman and just feel and take and enjoy. He had given himself over to her completely. She knew she already had his soul, his heart, but now she had his body, and she had plans for it. It wasn't long before she felt him harden under her tongue, his cock swelling and she knew he was close.

'Emma, I – Emma I'm gonna -' he started to warn her but she ignored his protests. Instead, taking a deep breath through her nose, she relaxed her throat, letting him slide further in until her lips touched his pelvic bone. She heard him gasp at the feeling of being taken in so deep and smirking inwardly, she swallowed around him, her throat constricting like a vice around the head of his shaft. And that was it. He was a gonner. The sound he made as he came was gutteral and raw, his hook digging into the sofa, ripping a cusion. She'd never heard him make that sound before but she was decided then and there that she would sure as hell hear it again – _and often_. Swallowing the hot liquid of his release as it shot down her throat in waves, she released him from her throat, letting her mouth slide over him a few more times as she brought him down from his high. She ran her hands over his shaking thighs as he slowly began to soften.

Finally, she slid him free from her warm mouth. She looked up at him only to be met with the picture of an absolutely ruined man, one who had been used and – to borrow his word – _ravished_. His head was lolling back on the sofa, too heavy for his neck to support, his hair was a mess (though how that had happened she wasn't totally sure) his shirt and pants still hung half on him, his chest still heaving from the exertion and his eyes glassy with fading extacy. The man looked properly and thoroughly fucked Emma thought, patting herself mentally on the back.

Smiling, Emma placed one, last kiss on his abdomen, just below his naval before standing to head back to the kitchen. She hadn't made it the length of the sofa however before she was yanked back by a hook grabbing hold of her belt-loop. With a small cry, she was thrown against the cushions so that she was lying flat on her back, spread out for a half-naked pirate who was suddenly crawling over her and pinning her body beheath his.

'And just where the hell do you think you're going?' he asked. Emma swallowed, his voice had taken on that tone that made her shudder in anticipation. There was a dark twist to it this time however, his voice still rough from his orgasm, and she knew he had only one thing on his mind: payback.

'Um,' Emma stuttered, her voice higher than she would have liked. 'To start dinner?' she asked. Killian shook his head.

'No,' he said. 'I don't think so,' he started, bringing both her hands up over her head and holding them in place with his hook, leaving his hand free to roam her body. He ran it down her chest, pausing briefly to torture both nipples into hardened peaks before wandering down to the apex of her thighs. Emma gasped as he pressed his finger _right there_ along the seam of her jeans, the added friction of the denim making her cry out and arch her back into his hand, seeking more. Killian grinned at her reaction, enjoying how far along she clearly already was.

'Did you enjoy that, you minx?' he asked his finger rubbing small circles around her clit through her pants. 'Torturing a man to within an inch of his life?' Emma whined, bitting her lip as she felt her orgasm already starting to build.

'Killian, please,' she didn't even care if she was begging at this point, she just needed release. Killian smirked again.

'Oh, no, love,' he said with a devilish look on his face as he lessened the pressure of his finger until it was just light enough to drive her wild but not enough to get her off. 'You've awoken the pirate in me,' he told her. 'You played with fire and now you have to deal with the consiquences.' He brought his lips down to her breast, sucking and biting at her nipple through the fabric of her shirt until she was practically sobbing. He moved on to the other. 'Perhaps I'll have you like this,' he mused, 'with all your clothes still on, whithering and gasping beneath my hand and my mouth.'

Emma wanted to smack him, but she also wanted him to end his torture so she gave in. 'Please, _yes_, anything – anything you want. Oh, _God,_ Killian, please!' she moaned, whithering just as he had suggested she would and he smiled endearingly at her.

'Now, now, Swan, you won't get off that easy,' he told her ruefully, his eyes spoke promises of sinful pleasure and Emma moaned at his teasing but _oh so wonderful_ minstrations. 'You forget, I spent three hundred years exacting my revenge the last time,' he reminded her. _Oh, God_ Emma thought. This was going to be a long night.


End file.
